Birthday Bests

So I had another birthday recently. And I've decided there are some great things about getting older. Other than just breathing some more and continuing to spend time with the people I love most on this earth.

For one thing, I'm now at that age where I realize that I could be a grandmother without any scandalously young childbearing going on. This realization did not come gently though.

A few weeks ago I was shopping in Wal-mart and my oldest son called me on my cell.

"Great-grandpa called," Clay said.

"He did?" I asked. "Did you talk to him?"

"No, I didn't pick up the phone, but caller ID showed it was him," he said.

(My kids aren't allowed to answer the phone unless caller ID shows a family member's name.)

"You could have picked up and talked to him," I reminded Clay.

"Yea, but THEN I WOULD HAVE HAD TO TALK LIKE THIS!" he shouted in my ear.

I laughed. "Yes, but that's just how you have to talk for him to hear you. Do you want to call him back?" I asked.

"Nah, I'll let you when you get home," Clay said.

"Okay, sweetie. Thanks for telling me. I'll see you soon. Love you, bye."

End of phone call. I pushed my buggy a little farther before this woman walked up from behind me and said something, but all I caught were the words "sweet" and "grandson". I asked her to repeat what she'd said.

"Oh," she said, "I was just commenting on the sweet phone call you just had with your grandson."

My WHAT??!

By then she was beside me and she started to get flustered.

"Well," she continued, trying to back peddle quickly, "now I'm up closer to you and I see you aren't old enough to be a grandma."

She was embarrassed. And I hate to see that.

"Actually, that was my oldest son. BUT I am old enough to be a grandma," I said. "One of my best friends from high school is a new grandma."

She was off the hook and we continued with general chit-chat a few more minutes. I could have let her comment fester a little bit, but I chose not to. She could have been witness to a not-so-nice conversation between me and my son, so I was just glad she heard us on a good day. I focused on the positive.

See, at 41, I'm mature enough to not let little things bother me anymore. I'm also more of a realist.

So I went to the toiletries section and bought a new box of hair color.

The other great thing about turning another year older is that you can let some dreams go. And see that you are better for it.

I used to always think it'd be a great thing to be, um, more fully endowed at, er, certain places on my body.

I'm not against plastic surgery. In fact, even though I don't routinely spend mega bucks on myself, for my two previous birthdays, I did a couple of things that qualify as cosmetic procedures. And I did it just for me.

I had LASIK surgery when I turned 39. And when the big 4-0 hit, this needle freak voluntarily let someone poke a needle filled with who-knows-exactly-what continuously into whatever spider veins they came across on my legs.

I've also dreamed of having a tummy tuck pretty much since the day my twins were delivered eight years ago. I never had a single stretch mark from my first pregnancy, but twins did my belly in. So when I read awhile back that they can suck the fat off your belly and deposit it straight into your breasts, I thought, "Hey, now that's for me! Nothing fake shoved up in there. All me. Just repositioned."

Seriously... what took doctors so long to figure out that stroke of genius?!

So I started dreaming with a bit more consideration. How much would that cost? How much would that hurt? How long would I have to flinch every time my kids came to me for a hug if both my belly and chest were recovering from surgery?

And then I had a mammogram.

And it came back with "iffy" results.

So I had a repeat mammogram.

And it came back with clear results.

And then I decided that if this mammogram thing was going to be an annual thing, sometimes with repeats... well, then, hey - size DOES matter. And it's better to be smaller!!

So that dream died. And I'll happily lay it to rest.

That tummy tuck thing, though... that might still be a "go". It took me lots of years to work up the courage and save the dough for LASIK. It'll take longer if I ever work up to a tummy tuck simply because I'd have to have general anaesthesia. And that's a greater fear for me than needles.

But, probably by the time I work up the courage to do it and have the money to do it, it won't matter so much. Every other part of my body will be sagging then, too. And I'll be mature enough to handle it then.

Yeah, this getting old thing isn't too rotten.

For now.